Wrong place, Wrong time

8

Magdalena

“Where did you arrive from?” Mr. Ceiling continues his range of questioning. His questions seem harmless, so I don’t mind answering them.

“Denmark.” I look him in the eyes as I answer, maybe he is trying to figure out if I have anything to do with the bad guys. Does he not see my lack of clothing? I definitely have no association with them.

“You’re far from home then, why?” Ouch, sensitive question.

“Personal issues, I wanted a fresh start. A new beginning. What better place to do that, other than the concrete jungle itself?” I retort, keeping to surface level information only.

“What issues?” Mr. Ceiling’s eyes narrow at me. I sigh.

“As I said, personal issues.” I leave no place for discussion. It’s a painful subject and probably a discussion I need to have with an authorized therapist – not a bunch of shady dudes in a creepy basement. Silence follows for a while, until Mr. Ceiling decides it’s time for another round.

“How old are you?” He asks.

“Twenty-three.” I respond tiredly. “You?” I reverse his question.

“None of your business.” He states, asshole.

“He is thirty-two.” Isaac spills, making me smile. He seems like an honest man and if I look past the unhinged look in his eyes, I may even deem him somewhat trustworthy.

“Dick.” Mr. Ceiling spits at him, making him chuckle.

“The only one being a d**k here is you, Damiano.” Isaac flashes me a smile, making me return one.

“Don’t f*****g call me that.” Mr. Ceiling spits back at Isaac, his tone making me flinch.

“Well, stop being so pissy then.” He retorts with a laugh. I rest my head on the wall behind me, being mindful that I don’t accidentally hit the pipes again. The exhaustion is creeping back in, but I’m honestly still too terrified of closing my eyes. I fear that the next time someone comes here for me, I’m not coming back.

“You’re too young to look so defeated.” Malcolm interrupts my train of thoughts. “What’s going through that pretty, little head of yours?” He thinks my head is pretty. What a strange compliment. It sounds like something a father tells his daughter. Maybe he’s a dad?

“Not much, I just have a bad feeling.” I try not to sound emotional, I don’t want to drag their hope down with mine.

“I thought we were beginning to grow closer than that, considering you touched my shoes.” Is he trying to be funny right now? “We don’t have much else going on in here. You might as well enlighten us about your bad feelings.” He is right about that, I don’t know much about killing time when you’ve been kidnapped.

“Alright,” I start, “I fear I may be finished off when Weasel comes back in here.” I look at Nico, hoping to see a twinge of any sort of feeling in his eyes. He looks to be around my age, so maybe he is having the same existential crisis as I am. I think his eyes soften just a tad, but it quickly disappears again. My thoughts drift back to Mr. No eyes.

“He won’t kill you. You’re worth more alive since they’ll be putting you up for auctioning, so you’ve got a little under a week still.” Malcolm tells me.

“A week? How do you know?”

“We were ambushed on Friday, and we've been in this basement for at least a day, meaning it must be Saturday today. Their auctions are only held on Fridays, therefore there is still time.” So Malcolm seems to know about the auctions, and he doesn’t seem too worried. Of course, he’s not worried, he’s not the one being auctioned off.

“You seem quite sure about your information, how do you know?” I’m getting more curious by the minute.

“The auctions are infamous in the business world we’re a part of, it’s pretty common knowledge for us.” Malcolm’s face looks solemn all of a sudden as he shoots a quick glance towards Scarface.

“What’s your line of business?” I hesitantly ask, already knowing that it’s not what I’m hoping it’ll be.

“Some call us criminals, some call us gangsters. I personally think mobsters have a better ring to it, though not all of us directly deal in that line of business.” He sends me a smile, I assume he is trying to lower the blow, great. “Isaac,” He nods his head towards the dentist guy and continues, “He is a contractor, if you need someone to be dealt with, he’s your man.” Wait a minute, he’s not a dentist? Isaac sends me a wink. I quickly look back at Malcolm as he nods towards Nico next. “Nico is Isaac’s trainee, Isaac is a busy man and has decided to recruit and train a partner to lessen the burden of work.” See, that would make sense as a working dentist, but it doesn’t add up with the previous statement of his work; If you need someone to be dealt with, he’s your man. Malcolm looks towards Scarface and continues his presentation. “Scarface is next in line for the mafia,” There we have it folks, know he is being a bit more specific. “He has been raised to take over the role his entire life, he just needs to get that temper under control.” Jesus Christ. My heart is beating slightly faster than before.

“f**k you.” Scarface spits at him.

“See?” Malcolm gives me an ‘I told you so’ look and I nod confirmingly. He didn’t tell me what he does himself.

“What about you?” I ask him in a low tone of voice. He is the biggest and most terrifying guy of them all, in this room.

“Me? I’m your worst nightmare.” He smiles widely. Not creepy at all.

We fall into an uncomfortable silence, though I might be the only one finding it uncomfortable. My thoughts won’t shut up. ‘I’m your worst nightmare’, what kind of lame movie line is that? Unacceptable. I sigh deeply and decide to ask him what the hell that was supposed to mean.

“Malcolm, sir?” I call out to him. He looks straight at me almost instantly and sends me a wide smile.

“Yes, love?”

“Excuse my language, but, what the f**k?” My question makes Nico snort, making all of us snap our heads towards him in surprise. I didn’t know he could do anything other than grunt.

“Would you look at that, love, you made him laugh.” Isaac looks at me in wonder, he turns his head towards Malcolm and continues: “We should make that an initiation kind of thing, if you want to join the fam’, make Nico laugh. The most I’ve ever gotten is a small smirk or a huff.” Malcolm smiles widely in amusement, Scarface is smirking, though I’m not sure why – I thought he had a permanent stick up his ass.

“Please do continue.” Malcolm’s attention is back on me again.

“Oh, right, uh.” I take a breath to compose myself and get back to my original thoughts. “You referred to yourself as ‘your worst nightmare’.”

“I did.” He nods in confirmation.

“That’s not really a name for a specific profession as far as I know, right?” I throw a glance around the room but no one is moving or giving anything away. “So, what do you actually do?” He studies me without blinking, long enough to make me put on my ‘smiling to a stranger while walking down the street’ smile. He finally smiles big, really big, as if he has come to a satisfactory conclusion.

“You’re brave, whether you mean to be or not. You seem to have your head screwed on correctly and you’ve still got your conscience. I think I’ll leave it up to you to figure it out, to keep your mind occupied. How does that sound, love?” I think about his words for a few seconds. I think I’m up for the challenge.

“Okay, that sounds alright. But,” I pause, making sure he is looking at me, “Please don’t end our conversation like that again, please.” His smile drops in confusion. The room freezes, and it suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out of it. Nico has tensed up and Scarface is looking at Malcolm as if he is expecting an outburst. Malcolm losing his smile is clearly much scarier than him smiling like a lunatic.

“You mind me calling you love?” He raises his eyebrows in question. His question seems like a challenge, a challenge I’m not up for.

“No, not at all. I meant the whole ‘I’m your worst nightmare’ thing, it scared me half to death for a second.” I let out a tiny relieved laugh and wipe imaginary sweat off my brow. Isaac lets out a chuckle alongside Malcolm, whose smile returns strongly to his face. Isaac untenses and Scarface has shut his eyes again. Alright, noted. Don’t make Malcolm’s smile disappear.

“I told you. You’re a scary-looking, well-dressed man, Smiley.” Isaac weirdly compliments him. I mean, is that even a compliment?

“My apologies,” Malcolm apologizes with a smile. “I’ll try to be more mindful, no promises, unfortunately.” He sends me a wink, I’m not sure what the wink is for though. What a strangely polite, scary looking man. Just as I am about to thank him, the door slams open yet again, making me scurry into the unoccupied corner to the right of me. Weasel struts in with Gunner right on his heels, and glances around. He seems pleased to see that everyone is where he left them, and finally looks towards me and smirks, making me gulp. Kill me, please, and do it fast. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by Isaac.

“Did your mother not teach you how to knock?” Isaac looks genuinely interested in what Weasel’s answer might be.

“Or how to enter a room politely, like a gentleman?” Malcolm adds curiously. The anger rises in Weasel’s eyes. Why do they have to antagonize him when they probably know he is here for me?

“My mother was a low-life b***h who knew her place.” He spits back at them. Okay, zero respect for women at all, check.

“Now, that’s no way to speak about women, let alone your own mother.” Malcolm further antagonizes him.

“That sort of behavior comes from the dad. I think I read that somewhere once. Good thing he’s been removed from your life. Terrible influence.” Isaac adds. This doesn’t please Weasel, and he nods his head at Gunner, who walks over and punches Isaac in the face.

“Don’t talk about my f*****g father, Dentist!” Weasel shouts in anger. His crazed eyes find me again and he stalks over. If I didn’t have full control over my bladder, I would have pissed myself. He grabs me by the hair and drags me to a standing position with my back against his chest.

“Now shut the f**k up, so I can ask this b***h what I came here for.” Malcolm’s eyes turn sharp, and Nico’s jaw tense. Scarface hasn’t uttered a single word, but he is watching closely. Feeling Weasel’s body pressed against my back is disgusting, and I try to separate myself just an inch without success.

“Now, Rapunzel, I need your help with some papers. Think of it as an application to sell yourself for a job.” His breathy chuckle in my ear makes me physically ill. “Can’t auction you off without papers, and depending on the answers you give, your worth varies.” He licks my ear and I flinch away in disgust, but he just pulls my hair harder making me hiss in pain. “Put that down on paper, Gunner, she hisses nicely when you apply a bit of force.” I zone out while Gunner notes something down on the tablet he pulled out from god knows where. I think back to my life back home. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I had first perceived it. I could have been overreacting, as my parents liked to always say I did, I should never have left. A slap brings me back to the present situation.

“No answer? Alright, we’ll do this the hard way instead.” Weasel throws me to Gunner, and they haul me back out of the room. What did I miss? f**k!